CHAPTER TWELVE
I don’t think I’ve ever dreaded anything more than I’m dreading this party. Which is saying something because I have dreaded a great many things in my life.
I mean, the thought of writing a more erotic, on-trend sort of romance just about ended me. I even considered throwing in the towel during some of my darker moments.
But this? This is on a whole other level.
As I climb from the car Grandmother sent for me, it doesn’t help that both my own experience with Blake and Matt’s warning keeps running through my brain, and I don’t know if he will consider that a sign of something serious.
I haven’t seen Jake since our afternoon at the park—his work schedule has been crazy busy—and with each passing day, the question of whether or not he thinks this is more than it is has gotten bigger, heavier.
By the time I step onto the sidewalk in front of Grandmother’s brownstone, there’s a boulder sitting on my chest. I nod to an older couple walking arm in arm just before they turn to climb the stairs, wondering if they can tell how nervous I am.
At least there’s one thing I know will go well tonight.
I’m wearing Chanel, one of Grandmother’s favorite brands.
Not my cup of tea in general—don’t get me wrong; I appreciate a well-made dress, but my style tends to be a little younger.
The black cocktail dress is one of a few she bought for me after my college graduation, when she was sure I’d rise to the top of the literary world and need suitable clothes for all the fancy parties I’d attend.
What would she think if she knew what I was writing now? Honestly, she’d probably love it.
Now is most definitely not the time to be thinking about that. I don’t need to stress myself out even more.
His timing is impeccable. Just as I turn around to look in the other direction, wondering if maybe Jake forgot about our meeting up at eight in front of the house, I catch sight of a man at least a head taller than everyone around him, strolling down the avenue.
Hot. Diggity. Dog. He’s wearing a tuxedo that looks like it was made just for him—heck, it probably was since I doubt he could grab anything off the rack with a body like that.
He walks with calm, grace, elegance. He doesn’t even register the fact that just about everybody who passes by stops to take a second look at him.
His hair, normally wild and wavy, is slicked back in a neat, short ponytail.
His tanned face is freshly shaven. There’s a bow tie at his throat, which I want nothing more than to remove with my teeth.
Only the slight smirk playing over his lips when he finds me gaping at him in flat-out surprise gives away the goofball underneath the polished surface.
“Wow,” I breathe when he reaches me. “You look like James Bond right now.”
“Oh?” His eyes light up before he falls into a pose, one hand in his pocket, the other at his slightly upturned chin. He lowers his brow. “Becker. Jake Becker.”
“Stop it.” I giggle. “Before somebody crashes their car from staring at you.” Really, I’m surprised there hasn’t been a massive pileup as it is.
“Me? Look at you!” He lets out a low whistle, nodding in appreciation. “You’re stunning.”
I can’t help but touch a self-conscious hand to my hair, arranged in a twist at the back of my head. I usually like to keep it down, but I don’t feel like seeing my grandmother’s disappointed stares all night. “You really think so?”
“I think nobody will be able to take their eyes off you tonight.” He juts out his elbow. “Shall we?”
Oh, yes, we shall.
I take his arm—the muscles, oh my gosh, what I wouldn’t give to have him out of this tux—and walk with him up the wide staircase.
“Miss Kathryn!” Peter’s all decked out, too, in a coat with tails and everything. He nods his head in greeting to Jake.
“Peter, this is Dr. Jake Becker,” I murmur with more than a little pride.
Okay, so maybe I’m a little jazzed about being at the party with a doctor who could easily moonlight as a model.
Or a secret agent. “Peter’s been with my grandmother for as long as I can remember, and sometimes, I like him a lot more than I like her. ”
This gets a laugh from him, which I sense isn’t strictly the way he’s supposed to behave during a fancy function like this. “You’ll find her in the library,” he says before turning to the couple arriving behind us.
“Wow. This is impressive,” Jake whispers, taking it all in.
I’ve been here a hundred times, and even I’m more than a little amazed.
I’m pretty sure she must’ve bought out the entirety of the city’s floral shops in preparation for this.
The sweeping staircase along one wall has been festooned with lush roses, hydrangea, peonies—all of them in shades of cream and light pink.
The chandeliers cast rainbows of light along the walls and ceiling as the dangling bits of crystal move and sway.
A server walks past with a silver tray covered in champagne flutes.
“Thank you,” I murmur, taking one.
Jake’s still a little shell-shocked, so I take one for him as well.
“You okay?” I whisper with a smile, handing him a flute.
“I didn’t expect this,” he admits. “I mean, I figured … but this …”
“If it’s too much, we can go.” It’s not like I was looking forward to it for any personal reasons. I’m here out of duty. “We can show our faces, mingle a little, and then cut out.”
“Of course we can’t do that,” he scolds, though he’s gentle about it. Probably surprised that I’d suggest it. “She’s your grandmother, and she wants you to be here. Plenty of people don’t make it to seventy-five.”
He’s right, and I guess he’d know all about that.
“I don’t want you to feel obligated, is all. You don’t owe me anything.” Damn that Matt for getting in my head. I could kill him.
Jake only shoots me a puzzled look. “Why would I? You were nice enough to ask me. Come on. Let’s see how the other half lives.” There’s that glimmer in his eye again, or maybe it’s the light from the chandeliers. Or maybe some fancy lady’s diamond earrings are sparkling somewhere nearby.
I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting night.
“Darling!” Grandmother extends both arms, and I have to wonder how she can manage to lift them with heavy diamond cuffs on each wrist. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it.”
“How could I miss this?” I ask with a smile. Especially since you made it clear you’d never forgive me if I didn’t come. Not that she said those exact words, mind you, but some things don’t need to be said.
As soon as her gaze hits Jake, I might as well not be in the room. “Dr. Becker, I’m thrilled you found time in your busy schedule to be here,” she purrs, shaking his hand.
Now that she’s not wearing those huge sunglasses, I can see the way her eyes move over him. Like she’s already imagining what our children will look like.
Or like she’s got ideas about having him for herself. I don’t know whether that thought should make me laugh or gag a little. I settle on a sip of champagne to hide my grin.
“I’m honored you included me on your guest list,” Jake assures her. “This is a beautiful home and such a special occasion.”
He’s perfect. He’s freaking perfect. So smooth. Grandmother’s practically swooning.
“By all means, enjoy yourselves.” She smiles, as there’s another group of people waiting to wish her a happy birthday.
She grabs my arm just as I’m turning away. “If you don’t lock him down, you’re out of the will,” she hisses in my ear.
I wish I thought she was kidding.
“We’re the youngest people here,” Jake observes in a soft voice as we walk from room to room.
There are still flowers everywhere along with lit candles, which provide soft, romantic light. Though I’m not fooled. The soft lighting makes my grandmother look younger, so she prefers it.
“By decades,” I whisper, nodding to one of my grandmother’s friends who I vaguely recognize.
Of course, she takes this as an invitation to descend upon us.
Shoot. What’s her name again?
“Kathryn, dear, you look beautiful, as always.” Only it’s not me she’s interested in. I’m starting to feel like I might as well be a piece of furniture. She turns to Jake, tipping her head back to beam up at him. “Whitney Wilson,” she coos, extending a hand.
Right. One of my grandmother’s oldest frenemies. They’ve been throwing thinly veiled insults at each other since finishing school, though I have no doubt they’d both kill for the other if it came to that.
“Jake Becker.” He smiles.
“Dr. Becker, from what I’ve heard,” she adds, teasing. “Don’t downplay your accomplishments. Cecile told me all about you and Kathryn, and I couldn’t be happier.”
“Um, Mrs. Wilson?” I whisper, tugging the sleeve of her silk jacket.
But Jake handles it well. “I’m just lucky she thinks I’m worth spending time with,” he sighs with a shrug.
“Goodness,” Whitney practically moans, eyes roaming over his body.
“We were just on our way to get something to eat.”
Okay, so maybe I could’ve said that a bit more quietly, but the woman sounded like she was about to orgasm. I take his elbow and steer him away, toward the dining room where the clinking of plates tells me there’s a light meal laid out.
“I am so sorry,” I hiss in horror once we’re out of earshot. “That was uncalled for.”
“It’s okay.” He chuckles. “She was just being nice.”
Yeah, nice.
“And I didn’t tell my grandmother we’re together or anything like that,” I add in a tight whisper. “That’s the truth.”
“That’s also how grandmothers are. Mothers, too, and fathers.” He stops me before we reach the dining room, taking my arms in his hands. “Hey. It’s okay. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to come here tonight. I’m not a babe in the woods. You don’t have to protect me.”
He’s right. I can breathe a little easier, knowing he’s not half as mortified as I am.
“I just don’t want you thinking I brought you here to, you know, trap you or something like that.”
“Believe me, I don’t think anything like that. Although”—he raises an eyebrow along with one corner of his mouth—“if you wanted to trap me, I wouldn’t fight too hard to get away.”
I wish my heart wouldn’t pound quite so hard. I can hardly hear him over the sound of it. “I’ll have to dig the net out from the back of my closet. And the ropes.”
“Oh? That sort of talk will only earn you an early exit, young lady.”
That’s bad enough. It’s when he catches his bottom lip under his teeth that I have to forcefully will myself not to wrap my arms and legs around him and climb him like a tree.
“Kathryn! We’re dying to meet your doctor!” another of Grandmother’s friends calls out from the dining room. “Come, let’s get a look at you two together!”
“What was that about an early exit?” I mutter out of the corner of my mouth, which makes him laugh.
He takes my hand. “Come on. Let’s give them what they want.”